


Last Christmas (I Gave You My Heart)

by nevernevergirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevernevergirl/pseuds/nevernevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Christmas mornings Emma and Neal didn't spend together, and one they did. Written for the SF Winter Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Christmas (I Gave You My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope I'm not stepping on any toes by posting this, but I've seen a few of the other gifts get posted, and I just wanted to have all my OUAT fics archived together! Written for Jessie (thehummusoffensive) for the SF Winter Exchange.

**one.**  
  
Neal scratched at his head sheepishly, blinking at the glare of the sun as he ambled out of the police station. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding at the sight of the yellow bug one parking lot over, smiling before he noticed he was doing it. He walked over, knocking twice on the roof of the car.  
  
Emma scrambled out of the car almost immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her close, pressing his face against his hair for a moment.  
  
“Hey,” he mumbled. “It’s okay. Merry Christmas,” he said, wryly.  
  
Emma pulled back, frowning. “Hey, no, I don’t care about that. Tell me what happened? I saw the cops come in, and I heard you yell, but I missed the rest of it.”  
  
“I guess we were kind of loud, they called the cops, and they saw both of us,” he sighed. “Only think I could think of was to act like I was drunk off my ass. Held me overnight for disorderly behavior and convinced the manager to drop shoplifting if they kept me off the street for the night.”  
  
“That held up?” she raised her eyebrows.  
  
“Cop said it was Christmas Eve,” he shrugged. “I got lucky. You got away okay?”  
  
She nodded a little, leaning up and kissing him quickly. “Thanks to you,” she mumbled.  
  
“My stupid idea got us caught in the first place,” he rolled his eyes.  
  
“Hey, I’m the one that wanted to get Christmas dinner.”  
  
“I’m the one who wanted to race for presents.”  
  
“Dropped yours when I was running,” she managed a small smile. “Sorry.”  
  
“Sorry I missed Christmas morning,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against hers. She shook her head.  
  
“We have the rest of the day, right?”  
  
He grinned, kissing her hard.  
  
“Right.”  
  
 **two.**  
  
She’d gotten the hell out of Arizona the second her sentence was up, vowing to put as many miles between her and the past as she could before the Bug ran out of gas. She headed East, because East was away, and just managed to cross state lines on the fumes.  
  
She talked her way into a waitressing job, just something she could hold on to long enough to get somewhere else. She rented a room and kept her cash in the loose floorboard underneath her bed. And on the late shift, she met Preston.  
  
Preston was an accountant who liked apple pie.  
  
Preston also liked Emma.  
  
Preston was also married.  
  
It was fucked and she knew it, but hey. As far as she knew, he didn’t have 20 grand in stolen watches hanging over his head, so. Dreams do come true.  
  
Emma slept through Christmas morning. Preston hadn’t come by the night before. He had to set out cookies for Santa with his two year old.  
  
He didn’t call, and Emma didn’t care.  
  
 **three.**  
  
He promised not to look for her, so he doesn’t.  
  
Except for when he kind of does.  
  
Emma was always the observant one, but he was resourceful. He’s better at running than he is looking, but looking’s not to hard to figure out. She doesn’t leave much of a trail, and it takes him a couple of years, but he pins down a general area, eventually.  
  
Tallahassee.  
  
She goes to Tallahassee, and he’s not sure if it makes him feel like shit or reignites that stubborn dying flame of hope he can’t seem to shake, so he lets it do a little bit of both.  
  
And then, he hops a train to Florida on Christmas Eve. Fuck you, destiny.  
  
In the end, he can’t do it.  
  
He rents a room and buys an overpriced hot chocolate from the Starbucks in the lobby and he sits by the window and stares at the city and for the first time in three years, he knows Emma’s somewhere out there, just in his reach. He’s so fucking close his stomach can’t stop doing flip-flops, and he recites what he’ll say in his head. Pictures himself groveling on his knees. Rewrites hundreds of versions of the truth to find the best way to say I’m a fucking idiot and you’re the only good thing in this world and the next and the one after that.  
  
And then he stares at his own reflection in the glass and swears he can see the ghost of his father peaking out in his own features.  
  
This isn’t right. He’s not a coward. He’s not like him. Not yet.  
  
He’s not the best thing that ever happened to Emma anymore, and won’t be ever again. But he can damn well do what it takes to get her to her family. He can’t just take what he wants with no regard to the consequences—not with Emma.  
  
He boards a train north before dawn breaks.  
  
 **four.**  
  
Emma woke up on Christmas morning to a stack of pancakes loaded with chocolate chips and sprinkled with crushed peppermints placed at her usual spot at the breakfast bar.  
  
She raised her eyebrows.  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“It’s Christmas, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, turning to grin at her from the stove.  
  
“It’s Christmas, so we should go into sugar comas?” Emma said, wryly, sliding onto her stool anyway.  
  
“Where’s your holiday spirit?” Mary Margaret says, exasperatedly, carefully setting a cup of hot cocoa in front of her.  
  
“I’m kidding,” Emma smiled a little. “This is…it’s nice. It’s really nice.”  
  
Mary Margaret smiled back, leaning on the counter.  
  
“Did you talk to Regina about seeing Henry today?”  
  
“He’s her kid, Mary Margaret. Not mine,” Emma sighed, shrugging. “I’ll see him tomorrow.”  
  
“Emma,” she bit her lip, reaching out and placing a gentle arm on her hand. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Something in Emma’s chest flip flops, because this sucks, but she’s at least a little bit luckier this year. And that’s something.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” she forced a small smile. “Thanks for the pancakes.”  
  
 **five.**  
  
He has someone to call on Christmas morning, and that’s really something, he thinks.  
  
Tamara didn’t stay in New York for the holidays; she took off after Christmas Eve dinner for Pennsylvania with relatives. The parents she’s not ready for him to meet yet; but that’s okay. He’s not told her much about his own family, past the fact that he doesn’t have one. Not that he could tell her much, but there’s a practiced half-truth he saves for when it matters.  
  
But it’s only mattered once before, and that—  
  
Never mind that. He’ll work up to what’s left of the truth. Because this is a good thing. This is something he can have. Maybe.  
  
He hopes.  
  
The phone rang at 9:30— no earlier, because it’s his day off, and he hates waking up any earlier than 9:30 on his day off, and she knows that. She knows that. He grinned as he picked up the phone.  
  
“Hi, honey. Merry Christmas.”  
  
He’s a little bit luckier this year.  
  
 **and one.**  
  
They have an agreement, the three of them—because after the past few years, Henry more than deserves holiday time with each of his parents. They draw straws: he’ll spend the whole day Christmas Eve with Regina, who will take him to Emma’s at bedtime so he can spend Christmas morning with her. Then, after a Christmas lunch with the whole fucked up family tree, Neal gets him for the afternoon. It’s sort of the short straw, and it’s contingent on no one killing anyone else over the turkey, but shit. He gets to see his son on Christmas. That’s pretty amazing.  
  
And then came the knock on the door at 2 in the morning.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Dad!” Henry said brightly as Neal opened the door, blinking blearily.  
  
“It’s….definitely not time for lunch,” he said, slowly, glance past Henry to a sheepish looking Emma. Henry shrugged.  
  
“It’s already Christmas,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I’m gonna make hot cocoa,” he said, barreling past his father.  
  
Neal gestured for Emma to come in, smiling a little amusedly.  
  
“Not that I’m complaining, but…”  
  
“Why the early start?” Emma grinned, widely. “He wanted to see all of us on Christmas morning. We just left Regina’s, he wouldn’t open presents until it was officially Christmas. And then he wanted to come over here to do presents with you.”  
  
Neal sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Guess we’ll have to figure out something else next year,” he said quietly.  
  
“We will,” she said, firmly. “We’ll figure out how to do this for him, all of us.”  
He nodded a little. “You could…stay here tonight. Both of you,” he tried.  
  
“Neal,” she sighed, biting her lip.  
  
“Hey, it’s fine,” he shook his head, managing a small smile. “I get it. It’s…probably not the best idea. It’s just…late.”  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, interrupted by Henry barreling back into the room.  
  
“Everyone wants cinnamon, right?”  
  
“Go for it, buddy,” Neal said, smiling softly.  
  
“Hey, Henry,” Emma said, looking at Neal. “What do you say we stay here tonight, and head to your grandparents in the morning for pancakes?”  
  
“Really?” Henry grinned widely— then looked between his parents, grinning wider. “Really?” he repeated, pointedly.  
  
“Kid,” Emma said, trying to sound firm, smiling a little anyway. Henry held up his hands, shaking his head.  
  
“I didn’t say anything!” He smiled. “I want to stay.”  
  
“Okay,” Emma said, glancing at Neal, biting her lip to hold back her own grin.  
  
Neal nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, letting himself smile back.  
  
Okay.


End file.
